


Play Nice Pets

by robinasnyder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5358878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinasnyder/pseuds/robinasnyder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Uriel frees Alastair, Dean and Castiel get dragged away into a hell on earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Nice Pets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [octopifer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopifer/gifts).



> I wrote this a really long time ago, but never uploaded it to AO3. It's been pretty well buried. It's based on this picture http://filthifer.tumblr.com/post/63866106452/ghoulifer-play-nice-pets

Dean whimpered. He hated how damn weak the sound was. Okay, Alastair liked it when he did that. Dean had become very aware of what the demon wanted from him. He just liked hurting him. Dean wasn’t stupid. He knew the only reason Castiel was even alive was because Dean didn’t want him to die. There was some power there, but also a lot of weakness. Neither Castiel nor Dean had been strong enough to do anything to the demon when he escaped his bonds. If Dean had been paying attention to his job instead of falling apart under Alastair’s words they wouldn’t be in this mess at all.

Alastair’s snuffling laugh used to make Dean cringe, but he knew how to be good now. Castiel’s pain rode on Dean keeping his emotions to himself. All Dean could really do was pray that heaven would come and get them, or at least Castiel. He was an Angel of the Lord. He’d fought his way to hell and back for Dean and he didn’t deserve this.

At some point during their time (Dean didn’t know how long it had been. There was no sense of night or day. Dean slept when he was either allowed or passed out because he couldn’t handle any more) Dean had gotten very angry at Castiel. If Castiel hadn’t tried to make him torture information out of Alastair then none of this would have happened. But Dean didn’t feel that for long, because he’d fought back that time. When he saw Castiel next Dean could barely move from shame at what had been down to the angel. They were keeping his powers bound. Dean didn’t know how and he had little time to look to find a way to undo it.

“Alright, Pet, play time,” Alastair said with his snuffling laugh. Dean went willingly on hands and knees to the playroom. Castiel was already there, his hands bound back with those fucking ridiculous pink ribbons. Dean positioned himself, barely registering the red ribbons binding his hands. Dean’s eyes searched what he could see of Castiel’s body, which was most of it. He didn’t see any bruising, not cuts. It was just the angel is stupid lacey stockings and panties and those damn ribbons.

Dean thought maybe the pink collar and all the bows were supposed to emasculate the angel, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He looked strong and unbending even still, even with his hands trapping large black wings in ways that could not be comfortable. It was obscene and wrong what Dean was seeing, knowing what was about to happen and so damn desperate for it all the same. Castiel was alive. He wasn’t injured. He didn’t look shamed, but then Cas never did. It made the demons look stupid for how okay Castiel could look in lingerie. He was still an angel, a soldier of God and never didn’t look like it. Castiel’s eyes were blue and hard and looking at Dean much the same way as Dean was looking at him.

Unlike Castiel, Dean looked quite a sight. He couldn’t hide the whip mark on his back, or the scratches on his legs which were just beginning to scab over, or the wicked bruises on his hips. His own lacey stockings had all kinds of runs in them. The only thing Dean could hide were the marks on his face. He’d had to beg hard for concealer, but Castiel always looked so heartbroken when Dean showed up with a shiner. With a bit of make up the healing black eye and bruising on his throat were a lot less noticeable.

Not that Castiel didn’t still notice, of course. Nothing ever got past his all knowing gaze. But there was no subtle shift of emotion on Castiel’s face this time. It was like he understood that Dean didn’t want him to worry. Dean was just glad that Castiel was still looking on him. Castiel’s eyes would often go to the still raised mark on Dean’s arm: the handprint. Dean wondered if Castiel saw it and regretted everything.

“Play nice, pets,” Alastair said and that was their go order.

Dean lurched forward for an eager kiss. He could pretend all he wanted that this was just for show, that it was to keep Cas safe. Dean hadn’t kissed dudes before. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, but he couldn’t help stray thoughts and it wasn’t what men were supposed to do. And making out with and angel was a one way ticket back to hell. Wanting to do it… well, Dean though if there ever got out of this Castiel would fly Dean back to Alastair’s rack personally if he could if he thought Dean meant any of this.

The slip of tongue against tongue still sent electricity down Dean’s spine. This was when Castiel closed his eyes. Dean always told himself it was because Castiel didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to make it worse on himself. But if Dean didn’t know better, he’d swear it looked like Cas liked it. Dean always had to work hard to keep himself under control for these events. He didn’t want to scare Castiel. But a few minutes making out with Dean couldn’t be that bad, right?

Dean prayed it was. He really did. Because if kissing Dean wasn’t the worst part of Castiel’s time there then Dean didn’t know what he was even bothering for. Dean had to believe that he was keeping Castiel safe or Dean would shatter into a million pieces. Dean shut his eyes feeling guilt start to climb up his throat. He prayed, he prayed so damn hard, hoping that he wouldn’t break the angel. Please, get him out, just get him out, Dean begged.

Dean’s eyes snapped open when he felt Castiel’s nose brush against his. Dean blinked rapidly to keep from tearing up. The soft touch had nothing to do with the show they were giving. It was comfort, that’s what it was. And Castiel was looking him in the eyes. Dean couldn’t help but remember Castiel’s surprise to realize that Dean didn’t think he deserved getting dragged out of hell.

Did Cas still not get it? No one could raise him up because he’d just drag them down with him.

But Castiel surged forward this time and his lips around Dean’s and his tongue slipped between Dean’s lips. Dean remembered how awkward Castiel’s kisses had been at first. But now they were practiced. They knew each other. Dean knew how to make Cas gasp. He knew how to make him moan. And those moans were the only reminder Dean got of Castiel’s voice, the voice powerful enough to shatter videos, housed in the body of a regular man.

Dean wanted to hear him again. Sometimes he’d dream about Castiel holding him and murmuring Dean’s name in his ear over and over. And it was wrong. It was so wrong.

There was a loud crash and Castiel jerked his head back. Dean didn’t turn his head back, or wouldn’t have if Castiel’s eyes hadn’t been so fixed on whatever was behind Dean. Dean had to practically contort himself into something awful to see. It was Sam, but not just Sam. It was Bobby and Anna and even Ruby, all of whom looked like murder. 

It really hardly mattered what happened after that, though seeing what Sam could do with his demon powers was impressive. Castiel hadn’t been able to kill Alastair, but Sam did it like it was nothing. And Anna smote demons in a way that would have been wicked hot if Dean didn’t even want to think about sex at that moment and he wasn’t in the most compromising position possible with Angel of the Lord.

They loaded Castiel and Dean into the car once all the demons were dead. The second Castiel was out of the warehouse he was bad in his normal tax accountant outfit. Dean changed in the back of the Impala as quickly as he could while Sam and Anna did a last sweep of the place for anyone they hadn’t slaughtered.

The trip to Bobby’s was silent. Dean didn’t want to talk about it. Anna and Ruby went in Bobby’s truck. Cas sat in the back seat of the Impala. Dean caught Castiel looking at him when he glanced in the rearview mirror. Dean almost wished he was back on the bed being whipped again. Sam was giving Dean looks, but Dean wasn’t looking at Sam.

Dean found a bed when they got back to Bobby’s and he didn’t leave until he’d had a few hours rest he was certain it was late enough for everyone else to be also. He woke up free of any pain or bruising. He wasn’t even stiff. He figured Anna must have done it. The angels would have taken off hours before.

Dean couldn’t stand the house. It felt so damn normal and a part of him was still back in the warehouse. He needed outside where there were stars he hadn’t seen in God only knew how long. Clothes felt weird against Dean’s skin, almost too restrictive and just wrong. He was glad for it, though. He knew for sure that Bobby nor Sam had needed that view of Dean’s flagellated back or him in the silky, lacey black and red panties.

Dean walked around the salvage yard, just reveling in the solitude and the stars. He finally ducked around a stack of cars and sat down. “Thank you,” he whispered quietly.

“Dean?”

Dean jumped and turning, seeing Castiel standing next to him, but Castiel didn’t stay standing for long. He awkwardly lowered himself to the ground, like he wasn’t quite certain of his own body. Knowing Cas, he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said quickly.

“What for?” Castiel asked, looking at Dean.

“What for?” Dean repeated, not believing he’d just heard Cas say that. “How about the last however long we’d been gone?”

“It’s not your fault, Dean,” Castiel said. He looked up at the stars. Dean looked at Cas. He couldn’t get the image of Castiel in the stupid negligee and how proud and strong Castiel had looked. He still looked that way. But Dean had gotten a lot better at reading Castiel’s little micro expressions. Castiel wasn’t that calm.

“If I had been stronger-”

“Dean,” Castiel tried to cut Dean off.

“If I had been stronger,” Dean said louder, silencing the angel. “If I have been stronger then I could have broken Alastair. I was good… in Hell, I was really good at what I did. Cas, Alastair would put himself on the rack sometimes, and I could make him scream. I was good. I could have done it.”

“I know, Dean,” Castiel said. His voice sounded so calculating. But it was deep and Dean had missed it. It was nothing at all like Alastair’s voice. “I saw, remember? When I put you back together.”

Dean flushed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry, Cas. I am. You shouldn’t have been there.”

“No, I shouldn’t have. But neither should you have been there. But this was not your fault,” Castiel said. He looked at Dean and Dean maintained eye contact.

“I could have-” Dean started again. He needed to be sorry. He was wrong, had to be for how he’d thought about Castiel in that warehouse. And for how he was still thinking. Castiel’s lips had meant comfort and a few moments of safety and assurance. Dean wanted that now.

“No,” Castiel said. “No, Dean. It wasn’t about you at all. Uriel.” Castiel stopped and looked away. It was painful for him, whatever it was. That was obvious. “Uriel had been killing our siblings. Uriel let Alastair escape so he could kill you. But Alastair didn’t do as he expected and I stepped in.”

“Bastard,” Dean hissed. He looked at Cas and was looking at him again. He looked sad.

“I don’t believe that Uriel intended for anything to happen to me. But he also apparently intercepted our prayers once we were captured so they couldn’t get to Heaven. Even when Anna killed him-” That made Dean’s head snap up. Even in the dark, even not looking at Cas, Dean could feel Castiel was in pain.

“Sorry, man,” Dean said. He wanted to touch Castiel’s shoulder, but he kept his hands to himself. Cas just nodded.

“Even when Anna killed Uriel and our prayers got through, no one came to help. It appears that my superiors were disappointed in my inability to stop the breaking of the seals and that they found my actions while I was captured to be most unsavory.”

“Shit, Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean said, turning to face Castiel.

“There is no need for you to keep apologizing, Dean. You did not do anything worth apologizing for. And do not say you could have done anything,” he said suddenly. Dean had been able to, but after that he just shut his mouth. “There is nothing I could have done different or would have done different, even knowing what I know now. I made my own choices. I will live with them.”

Dean looked down at his knees. He breathed the night air through his nose. His arms and face stung with cold, and his body felt too cool due to lack of sufficient layers. But it was a good kind of too cold. It was natural, not from being naked under stranger’s gazes. 

“Did they touch you?” Dean finally asked. He didn’t want to ask, wanted to pretend like what he’d done meant something. But demons lied all the time.

“Yes,” Castiel said matter of factly.

“Dammit!” Dean shouted and jumped up. “I tried Cas, I tried so damn hard. I did everything, everything I could to keep them from touching you. I tried, I promise you I tried. I gave everything… was it that one time? Please tell me it was just that one time.” He didn’t even have to say which time. They both knew from how Castiel had come out that one time Dean had disobeyed.

“No,” Castiel said. “They touched me throughout.”

“Dammit, Dammit, Cas,” Dean said. He felt despair. What hadn’t he done? What could he have done? “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you. Dean,” Castiel said. “I made my decisions. They were very clear. If I fought back they would have killed you. Maybe I could have gotten to you in time, but I could not take that risk. I’m sorry that I did not try harder, but I was not certain that I would be able to rescue you this time if the ydid take you back to hell.”

“What?” Dean asked, rocking back on his heels. Castiel had stood up and was looking at him again.

“I’m sorry I did not do more.”

“What?” Dean asked again. He scrubbed his hands over his face. The freedom of movement alone was amazing. “You mean they told you they’d kill me if you didn’t do what they said.”

“Yes,” Castiel said.

“That’s what they told me,” Dean said. “If I wasn’t good, then Alastair would kill you… and I thought he’d been killing the angels. They said if I was extra good they might keep their hands to themselves.”

“Then it appears we were both badly informed,” Castiel said.

Dean leaned against the car. “God, this is so screwed up.”

“I am sorry they hurt you, Dean,” Castiel said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, feeling something clench in his gut. “I would have still been in Hell without you anyway.”

“It appears I could have gotten you out, and then you would not have been treated-”

“Cas, I said it’s fine.” It was Dean’s turn to cut Cas off. Cas shut up. “It’s fine. I’m just glad your okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Castiel asked, tilting his head. Dean smiled. It just seemed to normal.

“Guys shouldn’t do stuff like that to other guys.”

“Really?” Castiel asked. “Who told you that?” 

Dean blushed, realizing that Castiel had picked up exactly what he meant. Dean shoved all images of their kissing out of his head as fast as possible in case Cas was reading his mind.

“The Bible for starters,” Dean said.

“Largely inexact due to multiple translations and additions,” Castiel said.

Dean felt the air leave his lungs. “So you mean, that stuff in there… it’s not real?”

“Why could our Father care where you stuck your genitalia?” Castiel asked.

Dean laughed, he actually laughed because it was either laugh or cry. It was okay, Dean kissing Cas, so long as it was just Cas’s vessel and not Cas. Because if Dean knew anything, lusting after an angel was still wrong.

“Are you certain you’re okay?” Castiel asked.

“Great!” Dean said, trying to force a smile.

“I don’t like it when you lie to my face, Dean,” Castiel said. “It is okay to not be okay.”

Dean swallowed heavily. His shifted his gaze quickly up, realizing his eyes had been locked on Castiel’s crotch. Meeting Castiel’s eyes didn’t seem to help that much, since that punching blue had been one of the few good things in Dean’s life during that time in the warehouse. And Dean started blushing.

“Dean,” Castiel said, seeming uncertain to say whatever he was about to say. “I think I need to apologize and repent to you.”

“For what?” Dean asked. He couldn’t imagine what Castiel could possibly need to repent for.

“I’m afraid I took enjoyment from your pain.”

“Really?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. “Yes, I was aware that you would not want to touch me so, but I could not help but feel that it was the best part of my days.”

“God!” Dean gasped. “Cas!” That was the last thing he’d expected. He looked down and blushed. “Do you still want to?” he found himself asking. He heard himself say it but it didn’t even feel like had said it. He looked up to see that Castiel had looked away. Great, he’d embarrassed the angel.

“Yes, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Dean didn’t let himself think about being damned again. Cas wanted to. He’d liked those moments of… whatever. That cleansed something which had been turning black in Dean’s soul. He grabbed Castiel and kissed him. It was closed lipped and so chaste compared to what they’d done the past few months. And Dean nuzzled in nose against Castiel’s to copy what Cas had done for him earlier.

Castiel’s brows were furrowed when Dean pulled away. “I don’t understand.”

“I felt the same,” Dean said. “I wanted to kiss you. And I still want to.” He didn’t smile though some part of him still wanted to. But another part, instead of wondering what Cas would look like naked, was wondering how many more layers he could insisted Cas wore and how many more layers Dean could pull on himself.

“Oh,” Cas said. He moved closer and pressed his lips to Dean’s. It was just as chaste as the last, but really that was all Dean could handle. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it is,” Dean said and a very small smile broke through.


End file.
